


Ember of Hope

by Winterscribe



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Comforts Reader, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Panic Attacks, Sebastian Stan Comforts Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-14 23:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8033206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterscribe/pseuds/Winterscribe
Summary: Reader gets to talk to Sebastian at a Team Cap convention following the release of Civil War, but insecurity takes over.Will she get to the chance of a lifetime she's been working toward for years? Or will fear keep her from her dreams?





	Ember of Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. This is my first fic ever completed, and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. 
> 
> This was born from a dream. There is truth and real events in this story, mixed with hope and fantasy.
> 
> Please heed the tags, as some elements can be potentially triggering. I promise there is a happy ending.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything or anybody in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. I do not own Sebastian Stan, or know anything personal about him.

**Ember of Hope**

 

I stood in the long line with barely contained excitement, the sound of thousands of people echoing through my ears, drowning out any conversation. Not that any outsider would be able to notice my happiness under the heavy suit of armor and metal that encased my body. To the outside world I was a female Winter Soldier, one of the closest to the real costume if any of the dozens of pictures and compliments were anything to go by. While it felt amazing by all those people, there was only one person whose attentions and praise I was seeking. In less than one hour I would be meeting him, the Winter Soldier himself, Sebastian Stan. I saw movement in my peripheral vision as my best friend Angela came up to me with two bottles of water.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” she asked, handing me the cool drink. I gave her a glare, my best version of the Winter Soldier signature look and inwardly thrilled when she gave a small shake of her head.

“You look so much like him, it’s so hard to look at you sometimes. You mimic him way too well. Please take off the mask, it’s giving me the creeps,” she said. I pulled off the face mask that took months to hand make and let it rest around my neck. Running a hand thru my shoulder-length brown hair, I took a drink of the cool water and relished the feel of it going down my throat. Angela handed me a tissue and a mirror to wipe the beads of sweat running down my face, carefully avoiding the black war paint surrounding my eyes. I checked myself again to make sure I still looked perfect before handing back the items to Angela. I had to look perfect for my moment. I had to. I needed to. Angela gave a small chuckle while putting away her things.

“What?”

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Naturally, my worry did quite the opposite and chose to skyrocket. “No, tell me. What is it?” I asked while I slipped the mask back on, the sheet metal on my left arm catching the light. I had built and etched the metal to fit over my own arm, much like the prop Sebastian had during both movies. Dread was slowly filling me, and I knew that I wouldn’t like what followed. She sighed and suddenly looked defeated, like she knew this was going to happen and dreaded it. She tucked a loose blonde strand behind her ear and looked at me tiredly.

“I know you spent two years to make this costume near perfect-”

“It is perfect,” I growled out, the mask making my voice go lower. I added a voice box and made some adjustments to the inside design so that when I spoke, I sounded more like Bucky than I normally would.

“Yes; no one can deny that, but you’ve got to realize that Sebastian probably won’t see you in such a sea of people or even notice how hard you’ve worked to make this suit. I just think you are going a little overboard with the perfectionism.”

“Angie, you don’t understand just how much this means to me. This has to be perfect. I can’t take it if it’s not. I just...can’t,” I couldn’t control the pathetic whine that escaped. I hated it, and I internally berated myself. I looked ahead at the rather long line, briefly wondering how much longer would I be forced to wait for him.  _I need this_ , I thought. _I need him to notice me. To say something, anything to me. This has to work. I won’t be able to live with myself otherwise._

“Hey, you know that’s not true,” Angie cut into my thoughts. “I understand more than anybody in this whole world. I’m just trying to protect you from being heartbroken and disappointed.” Angela put her hand on my arm and gave it a little squeeze of reassurance. I mentally sighed. She was my best friend. She knew everything about me, my history, my mental instability and still chose to literally stand by my side. She wasn’t even here to see anybody, not being a die-hard fan of the Marvel Universe. She was here as a friend, as my baby sitter to keep my psychosis in check; and to protect others from me and me from myself. I hurt so many people.

 _‘All the time…’_ My inner voice whispered to me. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the noise. I sighed aloud this time.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

She smiled and shook her head. “Don’t be. It will be OK though. I promise you. You will do fine. Just focus on the fact that you’ll get to see Bucky!”

“How is it that you always know just what to say?” I said

“It’s a gift,” she grinned. “And because I know you.”

The line began to move as we filled the wide auditorium. Looking around, I saw hundreds of people file in and fill the seats. Realization that later I would be standing in front of the crowd, stunned me. _It’s so huge. So many people. I can’t do this!_ My heart started to race and it quickly became difficult to breathe. I struggled to see the person in front of me as my focus was entirely on my sudden lack of air. _I can’t do this!_ The costume suddenly felt claustrophobic and I wanted nothing more to rip it off. _I can’t do this!_ Sweat broke out on my hands; my face and neck felt as if they were on fire. I felt trapped, wanting to run somewhere, anywhere but chest pains made me hunch over, my head and vision swimming. _I’m a failure and a coward. He’s not going to care. Nobody cares._  I felt my stomach lurch and I quickly swallowed to keep things inside. _I mean nothing._ Distantly, I felt a hand on my back and heard a voice that was ripped away from me by the roaring sound in my ears. _I am nothing._ I put my hands over my ears and shut my eyes, my mouth open in a silent scream.  _Please stop...make it stop! Please. Please. Please stop. Somebody help me._

My name.

_Failure._

I can hear someone calling me.

_Coward._

Angela’s voice broke through the roaring and loud thoughts and I let her lead my body to a seat. I sat hunched forward and a small noise escaped my throat.

_Weak._

“Hey...hey, listen to me. Listen to only my voice,” Angela’s voice whispered in my right ear, her arm around my shoulders. “You are safe.”

_Useless._

“Please help me. Can’t breathe,” I squeaked out. “Make it stop." My entire body felt tense and the overwhelming need to run was coursing through my veins. I felt every tight muscle in my upper body, every shake and tremor in my bones. My head felt like it was in a vice and I was slowly drowning in panic.

“Listen to only my voice,” Angela repeated, her voice calm and soothing. “You are going to be OK. I’ve got you. Take a slow, deep breath.” I tried but my lungs burned with each inhale. I began a set of breathing exercises in a rhythm Angela taught me and listened to her repeated mantra. After a few minutes of deep breathing and her voice murmuring words of praise in my ear, my heart finally stopped trying to break it’s way out of my chest and began to slow. I was suddenly drained of all energy, my body a heavy weight. I wanted nothing more than to leave the auditorium and go home where I could just curl up and sleep. I hung my head in my hands, trying to take back some control over my warring emotions. I looked around me out of the corner of my eyes to see if anybody had noticed my attack. Angela caught the action.

“Don’t worry about them. Nobody noticed; they are all consumed with their excitement,” she said.

Nevertheless, shame and guilt filled me and threatened to bring tears. I blinked quickly to stave off the impending water works. _I am so weak. I can’t even stop myself from crying._

“I can’t do this anymore,” I said weakly, muffled by my hands.

“Yes, you can. You are strong.”

_No I’m not. I’m a weak, stupid, failure. This was a stupid idea and I’m stupid for even considering I was good enough to meet Sebastian._

“No I’m not,” my voice was thick with tears. Thankfully I used waterproof war paint.

“Yes you are. And he will like you. He’ll love your costume. Maybe even invite you to the set?” Angela teased as she pulled out a tissue and handed it to me.

“Thanks for trying to make me feel better. But we both know that would never happen.” _Because I don’t deserve him to like me. I shouldn’t even be allowed to be near him. I would just say something stupid and hurt him like I do everything else. I always screw everything up. I never do anything right, because I’m a failure._

“Maybe. You’ll never know, if you don’t try.”

An involuntary shadow of a smile ghosted my lips. I dabbed my eyes with the soft cotton. The only thing that had kept me from breaking down completely was the sheer knowledge that I was surrounded by people who might see me. I had full blown panic attacks in public in the past and never wanted to repeat it again. I struggled for years to be able to finally go out in public with some modicum of control.

The lights in the auditorium dimmed. Whispers and gasps spread like wildfire as the crowd slowly hushed. The curtain raised to reveal a long white couch spanning several feet. A glass table was in front of the couch with several water bottles placed every few inches. A moderator emerged, cue cards in hand and walked to the podium to the right of the stage. The crowd applauded his entrance and I could feel the anticipation rising within the room. Everyone was on the edge of their seat, myself included. I turned to Angela with a huge grin on my face, ignoring the playful roll of her eyes. I began to be restless. What started out as the tapping of my leg turned into a full body bounce as he began to introduce the panel.The Russo brothers came out first, waving at the crowd and sitting at the far end of the couch. Chris Evans walked out next, the moderator labeling him as team leader. The crowd got louder, and Chris just encouraged them.  He was still trying to get the crowd even more pumped when Anthony Mackie practically sprinted across the stage, like a child on a sugar high, nearly stumbling into Chris. Sebastian sauntered out, one hand in his jeans pocket, the other waving to the fans. My heart skipped a beat when I notice he’s wearing one of my favorite shirts he tends to wear most, a rich blue button-down that hugs his biceps. His hair just gracing the collar, the shorter strands falling into his eyes. I barely register that the rest of Team Cap has appeared and has joined their cast mates on the couch. I watch Sebastian interact with Anthony and Chris the most, jokes just bouncing back and forth. Their child-like laughter quickly becomes infectious and soon, I feel relaxed and am having a great time. The next half hour sped by very quickly and soon the moderator was wrapping up the panel. This was the part that I had been most anxious for, the part where fans got to ask questions.

“I must say, there is so many great looking costumes out there,” the moderator said.

“Dude, there are so many freakin’  Winter Soldiers out there you could start a clone war.” Anthony shaded his eyes at the stage lights and nudged Sebastian with his elbow.

“I can’t help it if my fans want to show their support,” Sebastian laughs.

“Please, my fans show plenty of support,” Anthony retorts. A loud roar echoes through the auditorium as hundreds of people shout and clap.

Sebastian smirks and said, “Well, I don’t see any Falcons out there.”

“That’s cold, man.” Anthony placed his hand across his heart, mimicking hurt. “It’s not my fault they don’t allow pets here.” Laughter erupted at his joke.

“Hey, you know what. Can I have everybody who’s in a winter soldier costume, just stand up? I just wanna see how many there are.” Sebastian asks the crowd, excitedly. I looked around the auditorium to see how many people stood. I counted at least thirty before I couldn’t keep count. I stayed seated, my face heating up.

“Oh my god! You guys are so amazing. I just want to thank you all for your hard work. You guys are really the reason why we all do what we do. You guys are the best fans any actor can ever have.” Sebastian began to clap, and the rest of the cast followed suit.

“OK, well with that grand finale, I think we can open the floor for some fan questions. If we can get a microphone up here to the right, and get a line started then we can get to the fun parts!” the moderator exclaimed. Several people stood up and began to form a line near the stage, the majority of them all being winter soldier cosplayers. _This is it. I can do this. I just have to get up and get in line._ Fear began to settle in my stomach in the form of a giant knot that felt as if it was heavy as a rock. I could feel a prickly heat cover my cheeks and slowly spread to my neck, arms, back, and hands. My eyes watered and my vision blurred. A pale hand entered in my field of vision, snapping my attention to the blonde beauty in question.

“What are you waiting for, go on up there.” Angela said, her eyebrow raised.

“Angie...I can’t. I’m scared.” I said lowly, swallowing thickly around the lump in my throat.

“You can do this. You are going to be OK. You have been waiting for this for months. You can’t just give up your hard work. Just think about all the times you thought you couldn't make it through a bad day. You relied on Bucky to keep you going. He helped you focus and you took every hour one at a time. Do it again. Just think about Bucky and how much he means to you. Focus on your breathing. Take slow, deep breaths, and you’ll be fine. I’ll be watching you if you need me.”

“OK,” I said hesitatingly. I slowly stood up, my body aching. It took every ounce of sheer willpower to keep taking the next step toward the growing line of people. My heart began to speed up the moment I joined the line and got faster the closer I got to the front. And that scared me more than anything.

 _I can do this._ I take a deep breath in.   _I can do this._ I take another even deep breath in. _I can do this. Just think about Bucky. Think about how every time I had a bad day, I could just escape and he’d be there to make me feel better about myself. How I felt loved for once. A broken man loving a broken girl….Oh who the hell am I kidding? This is pointless. It isn’t working. I can’t do it. What should I say? ‘Hi, I’m a huge fan and I just want your opinion on my costume?’ I can’t say that, that’s stupid. “Hi, my question is, what is your favorite…? This sucks. I don’t even know what to ask. I’m sure he’s probably heard the same question a thousand different ways and he’s tired of answering them. He probably hates this part ‘cause the questions are either something he can’t answer or doesn’t want to. Maybe he’s just being nice but secretly hates this whole convention. I’m sure it’s exhausting. I don’t want to make this worse. I don’t want to embarrass myself. I should just go. This was a mistake…_

The line had moved up and a cough behind me snapped me out of my internal monologue. I shuffled forward aimlessly staring at the dull brown carpet, as I debated on leaving.

I glanced up again and somehow I was first in line, a microphone being offered to me. I took it without thinking. My brain had decided to shut down. I couldn't think of anything to say and yet I knew everybody was waiting for me. There were people in line waiting for their turn. The panel was waiting for my question; and I just stood there frozen. I tried to open my mouth to speak, but no sound came forth. The moderator moved his lips, and vaguely I thought he was speaking to me but all I could hear was the pounding in my ears.

I was staring at Sebastian in an unfocused daze. He traded confused glances amongst his co-stars, several of them leaning over to whisper to him. Sebastian hesitatingly raised the mic to his lips, his pink tongue darting out to wet them, and asked me my name. I managed to tear my eyes away from him, blinking slowly and looking at the microphone in my hand, confused. When I didn’t respond, he raised the mic again and said, “Well, I think you completely _killed_ the costume!” My head snapped up to see his face, grinning wide from ear to ear. I must have had a look upon my own, because his grin immediately fell and his cheeks began to color. My mouth was dry and my heart began it’s endless race again. I closed my eyes, trying to fight off the onslaught of memories and panic again. I shook my head because I knew it would do no good. Experience taught me the longer I tried to fight it, the worse it would become. It was better to just ride it out. My stomach lurched wildly, not being used to this much emotional change in such a short time. I felt the knot of panic rise and I quickly bolted out of the line. I heard someone male shout at me, but I ignored them. The tears felt hot down my cheeks and I kept my head down while passing the throngs of people. I could hear them whispering or maybe that was my own inner voice, I couldn’t be sure. All I knew was that I had to leave. Keeping my head down, and trying desperately to tune out the mantra in my head, I headed towards the nearest emergency exit. I failed to notice the blonde shape that was my friend until she was right in front of my face, stopping me short. Her arms wrapped around me in silent comfort. I buried my face in her neck, my cheeks flushed and wet. I could feel the sobs clawing their way up my throat and I clamored out of the embrace, needing to be as far away as possible from Sebastian and the crowd.

* * *

  _Run…_

That was all I wanted to do. Run away and never look back. Run from the people who had surely seen my breakdown. Run from the embarrassment of making myself a fool. Run from ever thinking that I could get over my fears. My stupid fears that kept me from doing anything I wanted to do.

I finally reached the auditorium exit, the door slamming against the wall with the force. I stood in the main hall, where many people stopped at stared at the sound, but for once I paid them no mind. I kept walking, pushing people past as I bolted for the nearest escape. I wanted to run from everything and there was no place to run to. I couldn't run from myself. Each second that it took me to reach the outside was torture. I was disgusted with my very being. My skin crawled and I resisted the urge to scratch myself. The exit opened up to a stoop on the side of the building, shrouded by hedges and a lone smoker’s trashcan near some steps that led to the sidewalk that wrapped around the building. I ripped off my mask breaking the strap and tossing it into the trash. My fingers clawed at the sheet metal that took months to make, the etchings seemingly mocking me for the wasted effort. Pain radiated in my hands but I didn't care as everything of my costume became trash, leaving me in a tank and shorts. Groaning with sorrow, mouth open in a silent scream, my back hit the warm concrete as my legs slid out from underneath me. My body rocked uncontrollably and my entire body ached as I poured my emotions to the world. I drew my knees to my face and wrapped my bleeding hands into my hair, sobs choking me.

“Bucky.” I sobbed.

_I was nine. I had broken the plate I was carrying. “You stupid, idiot! Why can’t you do anything right?” My mother yelled over me, as she continue to strike me._

_“I’m sorry!” I said, raising my hands in defense._

_“Sorry isn’t good enough!”_

“Bucky.”

_I was thirteen. I had attempted to cook dinner, but the microwave shorted out and food was everywhere.“You killed it, you completely destroyed it. Why do I always have to clean up your mess?!” my mother screamed at me._

_“I’m sorry!”_

_“You’re pathetic.”_

“Bucky.”

_I was twenty. My first job, and the new manager didn’t think I was working enough. I bounced from project to project, not being able to focus on a single task.“I always have to follow you around and play babysitter. You’re slow and lazy, it’s like pulling teeth to get you to do anything.”_

_“I’m trying. I swear. It’s just hard.”_

_“You’re such a failure. Maybe you should stop joking about killing yourself and just do it.”_

_I am such a cry-baby. Incapable of controlling my emotions. Always needing help. Everything is always my fault. No difference if I died. Just a waste of space. Should've never been born. Just want it to stop...I just want the pain to stop._

“Bucky,” I sobbed his name over and over. He was my comfort, my tether to the real world, as oddly as that sounded. By focusing on him, I wouldn’t drown in the emotions, thedark and dangerous thoughts that threatened to overtake me. I needed him, more than I ever let on to my therapist and friends.

I heard something next to me and I started. Looking up, I saw Angela only a few inches away. I curled myself even tighter up against the wall, not wanting any contact with anybody at the moment. She knelt next to me and put a hand on my shoulder. When I didn’t flinch away, she pulled me into a half-embrace.

“You’ll be OK.”

_I can never be fixed. I’m too broken._

“No. No. No. No. I can’t-” I bit out.

“Come on. We need to get you home.” Angela stood, but I stayed glued to the cement.

_Such a weak pathetic cry baby. Can’t even handle a little stress. So weak._

I began to rock again, staring off into space and repeating “I’m sorry” and “Bucky” so fast that the words began to slide together so that it came out as “I’m sorry Bucky.” At some point I heard a soft curse and a shuffling sound but paid it no mind. Because maybe that is what I was really apologizing for. That I let him down somehow. The realization hit me and shook me to the core. I had been relying on my imaginary love for so long that he was literally a part of me. When times were tough, when my brain was not in the real world, he was there. I would hear his voice, lines from the movies and what I longed to hear him say, in my head and it would always make me feel better. I needed him now, but my head was roaring with painful memories and dark emotions. His voice was long gone in my head.

A noise jolted me out of my mantra. I saw Angela but this time she wasn't alone. She was with a man, and I had trouble recalling who he was.

“It’s Bucky,” she supplied. I looked at him, studied him closely. It was, but at the same time it wasn’t. He was wearing a dark army style jacket over a navy shirt that accentuated his upper body. He had a black glove over his left hand. The hair was right as was the build but something was off and I just couldn’t place it. I felt that I should know who he was. Nevertheless, my shoulders sagged, each muscle slowly unknotting as I accepted that Bucky was here. Fresh tears poured out, this time in relief.

 

“Hey, it’s OK, doll. Please don’t cry,” Bucky knelt in front of me, putting his flesh hand on my knee and rubbed little circles. His voice was low, soothing.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“For what? You didn’t do anything wrong.” Bucky shifted so that he was sitting next to me on my left, the line of our bodies touching. He put his arm around me and drew me in close. I inhaled deeply, the smell of his cologne making my head spin. I looked down at my hands. The blood had dried and caked from fingertips to my wrist; the only physical reminder of my breakdown.

“I couldn't do it. I panicked.”

A small smile ghosted across Bucky’s lips. “It’s OK. I’m still proud of you. You did an amazing job, hun.”

“No, I didn’t. I never do. I can never do anything right,” I shook my head.

He grabbed my hand in his, the feel of the rough glove irritating the cuts on my palm. “Listen to me. You’ve supported me even when I am at my lowest. You love me even knowing the terrible things that I’ve done. So trust me when I say you are strong and amazing.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he stopped me with a squeeze on my shoulder. I bit my lip and kept quiet.

“I know you don’t believe me. I know that there’s that voice inside of you that tells you terrible things, reminds you of all the negativity in your life and none of the good moments. You get so overwhelmed and I know it’s all you can do to stay alive sometimes. It’s not weakness to need help. It’s hard to hold on; But please, you need to hold on, for me. I want you to know how brave you are, even when you don’t feel like it. I know you have always believed you are ugly, stupid, and a pathetic weak failure for so long, you’ve forgotten that it’s wrong. I know those thoughts are constantly on repeat in your head, drowning out the rest of the world. You don’t see any good in yourself and you don’t have any hope. But doll, I see the good in you. You are beautiful. You aren’t a failure. You are alive and still fighting, even if you aren’t sure why it’s worth it. It’s worth it to me. I’m here for you, even though you don’t always see me. I am very proud of you today. I am proud of all the hard work you put into your costume. I’m proud of you getting in a line full of people, when I know your anxiety must’ve been suffocating you. That took courage. That’s bravery, doll. And I love you for it.”

I had started to cry again after just a few seconds of hearing his words. Bucky had just drew me in tighter to his body, wrapping his other arm around me, and resting his forehead to mine as he continued to tell me everything I’d ever needed and wanted to hear. I small part of me wanted to believe what he said was true, but it was hard.

Eventually exhaustion settled in. My body just couldn't take the stress anymore. My heart certainly couldn't. Lying there, my head on Bucky's chest made me feel more safe and at peace than I ever had in my entire life. I didn't want it to end, but my head had other plans. Sharp pains thrummed behind my eyes and slowly spread to my temples. I sat up, pulling out of his embrace to rub my forehead.

“Head hurtin’?” Bucky asked. I nodded, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Come on, doll. Let's get you home.” Bucky stood, pulling me up with him.

“Please tell me you aren't driving?” he asked. Before I could answer, Angela stepped up and said, “No, I am.”

“Ok, come on then. I'll walk you guys to your car,” he said, putting his hand around my waist and giving me a small push.

The walk back was longer than I remembered, but perhaps that was just because I couldn't focus on anything other than my growing headache. Surprisingly we didn't come across anybody for which I was thankful. When we reached Angela’s Kia, he helped me into the passenger seat. I laid my head up against the door frame and turned to see him leaning down to me.

“Thank you, Sebastian,” I murmured sleepily, finally realizing the truth of what happened.

“You're welcome, doll. Now, I want you to go back to your hotel, and get some rest. Take two aspirin and call me in the morning,” he laughed.

“M’kay.”

Sebastian gently shut my door. I watched him turn to Angela and they spoke briefly before he gave her a hug goodbye. I watched him walk back towards the building, never taking my eyes off him even when I heard Angela get into the car. She patted my leg and started the car.

“I told you, you would get to meet Bucky.”

 

* * *

 

I groaned as I rolled over, burying my face in the soft hotel pillow. After several minutes of trying to go back to sleep and failing, I blinked my eyes opened. Soft sunlight filtered through the closed curtains, casting an orange glow in the dark room. I remembered falling into a twilight sleep in the car on the way back to the hotel. Angela helped me climb into the bed where I promptly passed out after taking two Tylenol. I was still dressed in yesterday's clothes and I needed a shower. I stripped off my jewelry and checked my pockets when my fingers closed over a piece of paper that I didn't remember being there before. Sitting back down on the bed, I opened it, shower forgotten.

_Hey. Don't forget to call me in the morning. Sleep well. -Seb_

His hotel number was scrawled at the bottom. I stared at it in minor shock. I couldn't believe he actually gave me his number and even more shocking was that he wanted-no, expected- me to call him. Glancing at the clock, I noted that it was almost 10am. I wanted to call Angela but she wouldn't like being woken up this early. I wanted to make that call, but I put the paper almost reverently down and proceeded to take care of basic needs first.

After a long and relaxing shower, I put on my most comfortable outfit and padded into the tiny kitchen. I hummed lowly to myself as I threw together a quick brunch. I had just finished eating when the hotel phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Morning, doll,” came a smooth voice. I nearly dropped the phone.

“H-How?” I stuttered.

“Your friend told me what hotel you were staying at. When I didn't hear anything from you, I had my manager get your number.”

“Why?” I knew I sounded suspicious, but far from it really. I was just astounded that I was having a real conversation with Sebastian and for once, I felt calm. I couldn't figure out why though.

“I told you to take two aspirin and call me in the morning. It's almost noon. Why didn't you call?” He didn't sound angry. Disappointed, maybe?

“I'm sorry.” The words came out automatically but no less true. I had put off making that phone call. Mostly because I hated talking to people in general but even more so because it was Sebastian. I was afraid.

“Don't apologize. I didn't actually expect you to call. But I just wanted to talk for bit. How are you feeling?” Something in his voice made me think that perhaps he wasn't just referring to my physical well-being. Then I realized why I felt so calm. His voice was lower than normal. He was speaking like Bucky to keep me relaxed.

“Better, I guess. Look, I'm really sorry about yesterday. I-”

“It's ok. I'm the one who should be apologizing.” He interjected.

“What? Why?”

“That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I'm really sorry for yesterday. I used a poor choice of words, and I feel bad for the pain it caused you. I really did like your costume. I'm so sorry you trashed it. Please, will you forgive me?” He sounded so sad, it nearly broke my heart. In that moment I knew he could’ve asked me for anything and I wouldn't have hesitated.

“It wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong.”

“It's not your fault either. And I never should have used that phrase. I'm sorry.”

“It's ok.”

 I heard him sigh rather heavily. “Are you going to be ok?”

I shrugged even though I knew he couldn't see it. “Yeah, sure.” I hesitated, not sure I wanted to speak my next words. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Is it the question you were supposed to ask yesterday?” He teased.

“No.” I laughed. “A different one.”

“Alright. What is it?”

“Why? Why me?” I asked. I heard him take a breath to speak but I cut him off with a rush of words, “Why did you go to all this trouble to make sure I was ok? And why did you help me? You didn't have to do that. No normal celebrity would. Hell, no normal person would even get within ten feet of me if they had seen me. So why did you?” I suddenly felt ashamed for bombarding him with my little rant of questions, all previous confidence dissipated. I thought he wouldn't answer, he was so quiet for while.

“I know what you go through. One of my best friends battled anxiety. I tried to help him as best as I could. His panic attacks were much like yours. Looking back on it, I should've noticed you were more than just uncomfortable. Everybody gets nervous in that line. It wasn't until you looked up at me with pure fear, that I realized what was going on. When you ran out, I felt terrible.”

“What happened afterwards?” I asked tentatively, unsure if I wanted to know.

“I'm not going to go into details.” I could practically see him shaking his head. “I don't want you blaming yourself for the actions of others. Let's just say I asked to finish early. As soon as I was able to leave, I practically ran out of there. I needed to see if you were ok.”

“But why? Why the need?”

“I needed to make sure I didn't accidentally push you over that edge.” His voice sounded like he held the weight of the world. And maybe he did.

I was confused though. What edge was he talking about? And why did he sound like he lost some-oh. Oh.

“I'm sorry doesn't sound like enough.” My heart felt as if It was breaking. Just the sheer compassion and generosity of the man was astonishing. I could see why it was so easy for millions of fans to fall in love with him.

“All I could think about was my friend. And I knew that if there was anything I could do to help you, I'd be willing to do it.”

“How did you find me?”

“Your friend. Angela? I was still searching the Halls when she found me. She told me what was going on and pretty much demanded I fix it.” He laughed at the memory. “When I asked what you needed, she just simply said Bucky. That's when I grabbed my jacket and borrowed a glove from somebody.

“I know how important it is to hold onto something, or someone, when you feel like everything else is slipping through your grasp and spinning out of control.” He was silent for a few moments before continuing, “Even I have been affected a time or two.”

“That's how you knew what to say.” The news surprised me. I never would've known he had ever dealt with some of the same problems.

“Yeah.” He sounded sad. “Not the first time I've had to make that speech, albeit slightly tailored differently. Angela kindly filled me in on some of your fears and what goes on in your head. I just went from there. It was the first time I had to bring Bucky into the mix though.”

“I'm sorry.”

He chuckled lightly. “You can't help yourself, can you?”

“I’m-”

“-Sorry. I know. I know.” He laughed. “It's ok. My point is, it really is ok. About Bucky, I mean. Hold onto him if you need to. Let him comfort you when you are down. You aren't crazy. You're human. We make mistakes, and we learn from them. And if Bucky or whoever is your rock against the storm, then so be it. Most people turn to drugs and alcohol. It's much safer for you to have him.

“Thank you. Really. You don't know how much that means to me.” I hugged my pillow to my chest.

“Good. I'm really glad you are feeling a little better. I gotta go but don't worry, you'll see me in a few months.”

“What do you mean?” I felt puzzled. Was there something I missed?

“Well Bucky’s gonna come back somehow. You gotta see how he escapes cryo. So that means I expect you to hold on until you see him again.”

My mouth hung open in awe. My brain just couldn't process the fact that Sebastian really was such a dork. But a lovable one.

“I-I don't know what to say.”

“Promise me that you'll hold on. That and I expect to see you at another convention. Only this time, you'll ask your question, no fear. Ok?”

“Ok. I promise. Thank you again.”

“No problem. Take care, hun.” The line went dead but I didn't care. I was grinning from ear to ear. I felt so elated that not only did I have a private conversation with Sebastian but that he was ok with me clinging to Bucky for emotional support. He didn't think me crazy or dangerous like so many other people I knew. I was still mulling over our talk when someone knocked on the door. Getting up from the bed, I checked to see it was Angela. I wrenched the door open, startling her.

“You won't believe what just happened!” I squealed excitedly.

 

* * *

 

 

Many months passed. I still had some bad days, but each time I was able to press on, with Angela and Bucky to guide me. I never forgot my promise. My love for all things Marvel, especially my favorite assassin, only increased exponentially with the release of the newest movie, Black Panther. As the credits rolled, doubt began to creep in my mind about the possibility of Bucky making an appearance. Perhaps Sebastian was wrong? I refused to believe that he would lie to me. I almost got up from my seat, disappointment killing any enjoyment I had from the movie, when a third scene started. My eyes were glued to the screen as I realized the cryo tube came into focus. Wakandan doctors crowded around, Steve and T’Challa standing the closest. With a nod from T’Challa, a doctor pressed a button on the side of the tube. The door slid opened slowly with a whoosh of steam.

Bucky was motionless, frost rimmed his eyelashes and scruff. The camera slowly zoomed in onto his face when suddenly his eyes snapped open! I had to bite back a scream of joy and triumph. The screen went blank and the remainder of the credits rolled.

It took all the self-control I had to not bolt out of my seat not in fear this time but in joy. For once, I had hope. Because Sebastian was right, I had held on. I kept my promise. And if he was right about that then I knew one day I would see him again. And this time, I wouldn't be afraid.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for sticking around with a newbie like me. I really appreciate it.
> 
> If it's not too much to ask, please leave a line as to what you thought.


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